It’s the year 2057, you have just escaped from an alien cloning facility hidden somewhere deep in the mountains. You charge headlong through the woods in a dirty nightgown before happening upon a decrepit livery. What luck! this place must have been abandoned during the invasion, you see that there are a still a few canoes and kayaks resting on a rickety rack.
But… Where are the paddles? You circle around the log cabin that acted as the livery’s office, but you can’t find any oars.
You round the corner that leads back to the rack and an old man is standing right in front of you “I think you are going to need these” he says, unwrapping some long slender objects from an old blanket.
Carlisle paddles! Their durability and craftsmanship have held up well over the past few decades. The old man hands them to you with a solemn stare.
“All of the other paddles didn’t stand the test of time.” He says.
You look down at the paddles that are your salvation, they seem so much more real than everything else. “If these are the only paddles, how are you going to get off of the mountain?” You look up to ask the old man, but he’s vanished.